Forty Three Tries
by RagnarokSkurai
Summary: It took David forty-three tries to get it right. Slash.


It takes David forty-three times to get it right.  
  
Slash. Glorious, gratuitous slash. Lots of it. Lots of things implied, lots of things spelled out, and lots of alcohol use. Enjoy :P  
  
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~Forty-Three Times~  
  
The first time it took about three gallons of beer and a random grope, after which he ended up waking next to Christopher with a headful of images and an odd sort of ache that clarified, quite clearly, that they had done the deed.  
  
The second time was three days later and this time it only took four drinks and a casual touch to pull Christopher into a back room and get down on his knees and between Christopher's legs.  
  
The third time was a week after the first time and there was no hesitancy. Christopher and David no longer felt like denying themselves. They were in for whatever pleasure they could take and take they did.  
  
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"Jesus, Chris," David gasps, clutching at the wall behind him for support.  
  
"Need a moment?" But the look on Christopher's face says he doesn't want to wait a moment, and David doesn't either.  
  
"Hell, no." And now he only hangs on to Christopher.  
  
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The fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh times were spurred by similarly drunken gropes and ended up in David's bed. And once on the kitchen table.  
  
The eighth time was when Christopher happened upon David in the bath.  
  
By the tenth David realizes that he knows every part of Christopher's body. Every mark, every scar, the odd birthmark on his ankle. What Christopher likes and what doesn't, the hows and whys and wheres of it. He realizes that, and he makes use of it. He takes satisfaction in knowing that Christopher most definitely called out his name this time.  
  
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"Fuck, yes, David, there."  
  
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The fourteenth time there was no alcohol. No beer, no wine, nothing but a lot of adrenaline and a desperate need for warmth. Too many faces, too much blood, too much screaming. With Christopher everything was warm. Warm and safe. And those were two things, he remembers, that he hasn't been in quite some time.  
  
After the seventeenth time he feels loath to let go of Christopher. There's the whole sex thing sure, but just kind of cuddling afterwards isn't exactly overrated. And Christopher doesn't protest.  
  
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"That you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"C'mere."  
  
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The twentieth time he feels strangely close to tears. Dangerously close. Doesn't know exactly why, damn it, but Christopher doesn't see so he supposes it's all right.  
  
The twenty-third time is achingly slow, and David wonders how something so simple and easy has become so painful. Why exactly did this start? And why hasn't it stopped?  
  
The twenty-fourth time doesn't come for another two weeks. David thinks he can stand it, thinks he can make himself stand it, but once Christopher touches him he knows he is lost. And he begins to think maybe he doesn't care.  
  
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"Been awhile?"  
  
"You'd know."  
  
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The twenty-eighth time is when David falls asleep over his plans and papers and Christopher literally drags him off to bed. Not that it's a bed so much as an animal skin spread over the ground. Not that either of them was paying much attention.  
  
The thirty-first time was almost a game. A chase all over the house. Kind of fun. But it was actually damned stupid, come to think of it, tackling Chris on the stairs and fighting for dominance in a way that looked like their fistfights of old but weren't.  
  
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"I'm going out today. Will you guys be all right?"  
  
They stare at the bouncing redhead in front of them and finally the words register. They'll be alone in the house.  
  
"Hello? Guys?"  
  
"Uh yeah," David manages. "We'll be fine."  
  
"Try not to kill each other."  
  
The faintest of smiles curves Christopher's lips.  
  
"We won't."  
  
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The thirty-fifth time Christopher kisses David softly afterwards. And it feels right.  
  
The thirty-seventh time Christopher stays the whole night. And that feels right too.  
  
The fortieth time they talk afterwards, quietly. And when Christopher mentions Senna's name David doesn't flinch. In fact, he doesn't feel much of anything at all.  
  
The forty-first time Christopher makes a wisecrack and David smiles.  
  
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"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"  
  
"Would certainly stand to reason."  
  
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The forty-third time David decides he has something to say.  
  
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"I love you."  
  
Christopher stiffens and turns around, even though he was about to leave. "David, I."  
  
"You don't have to say anything. I know. I mean. it's enough for me."  
  
Christopher places a hand on David's shoulder. "David."  
  
"I know that you *care* about me, and."  
  
Christopher sits directly in front of David and stares straight into his eyes. "I love you."  
  
"And." David blinks. Repeatedly. "You. Chris."  
  
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And that night Christopher moves all his stuff into David's room, and David stops counting. He never again has to wonder what time will be the last. There's no point in counting until the end of forever. It took him forty-three tries to get this right but he sure as hell learned from his mistakes.  
  
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The result of finishing my chem midterm early, yet not being able to leave the room for an hour afterwards. *sigh* At least something good came out of it, right?  
  
Seems like the only thing I'm writing these days is ficlets, but not to worry. A huge, angsting David/Christopher looms on the horizon. Not to leave out Jalil, or anything. He shall have his turn as well. Mwahaha. The slash lives on.  
  
Review please! Me love reviews! It's like chocolate. It's a necessity. 


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